


Stop Me (If You've Had Enough)

by themoviesinourdreams



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Bisexual Niall Horan, Endgame Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Famous Harry, Famous Harry Styles, Famous Niall Horan, Gay Harry Styles, Gay Liam Payne, Gay Louis Tomlinson, Gay Zayn Malik, M/M, Non-Famous Liam Payne, Non-Famous Louis Tomlinson, Non-Famous Zayn Malik, One Night Stands, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-05-19 08:19:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19353097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themoviesinourdreams/pseuds/themoviesinourdreams
Summary: “Hi, my name’s Louis, and I’ll be your server today. What can I get for you?”His voice is chipper until he can’t force it anymore, and it breaks on the last word.“Yeah,” Harry doesn’t look up from the menu. “I want some tacos.”“This is a breakfast diner. We don’t serve tacos.”“Well, I want tacos.”“Then you should’ve gone somewhere that actually serves fucking tacos!” Harry looks up. His face flashes with shock before it turns apologetic.“Could I get the eggs benedict then, please?” His voice is soft just like it was four months ago and Louis wants to melt. He nods. He’s halfway to the kitchen before he realizes that he’s forgotten to take all of the other orders at the table.OR the one where Harry and Louis are kind of sort of friends with benefits until they realize they're not.





	1. Chapter 1 ( i think?)

**Author's Note:**

> Yo what up dogs. I'm a writer (lol). I'm having some major writer's block with my biggest story right now, so I decided to challenge myself by writing a horrible fan fiction. I really hope y'all like it lol. 
> 
> Unedited. Feel free to point out any mistakes or suggestions or criticism or praise, bro that's what I'm here for.

Louis hasn’t been laid in four months.

He’s probably broken some kind of record he’s decided, as he dumps his uneaten cereal into the sink. Liam, who is on his fourth egg, who’s been dating Zayn for a year and a half, who doesn’t know anything, says that all Louis needs is a really good fuck, and they should go out tonight.

“I’m working tonight, Liam,” Louis says because Liam doesn’t know anything. 

“Well, maybe you should give Tinder another try, you deleted it pretty quickly after last time.” And Louis thinks he may vomit.

“I don’t want to meet someone off a dating app. Okay, Liam? I’m absolutely fine.” And maybe he feels about snapping at Liam, because Liam really doesn’t know what happened four months ago when Louis re-downloaded Tinder.

He doesn’t know that Louis matched with Harry fucking Styles of all people, and that they had sex in Harry’s hotel room and it was the best sex that Louis had ever had, and then, afterwards, instead of falling asleep and sneaking out at four am, Harry had put on a movie, and they ordered room service, and Louis let Harry beat him at four rounds of Monopoly, because Harry was famous, after all, and Louis couldn’t let losing at Monopoly destroy his fragile ego. Louis would never lose at Monopoly unintentionally. 

And Liam doesn’t know that every time Louis closes his eyes he sees green eyes and brown curls and misses the feeling of Harry up against him, misses the way his body molded into Harry’s, misses the sound of Harry’s laugh and the way he absentmindedly brushed Louis’s fringe out of his eyes. 

Harry didn’t call. They’d exchanged numbers after Louis finally had to leave to make his shift at the diner, and it’d been four months and he’s stupid for holding out hope that Harry will call. He’s stupid because Harry Styles is too famous and too hot to want someone like Louis, and just because it was the best fuck, best night, of Louis’s life didn’t mean that Harry felt the same way.

But fuck.

“We’ll go out tomorrow; it’s your day off.” Liam is adamant. Probably because Louis hasn’t gone out in four months. Because of Harry. But Liam doesn’t know about Harry. 

“Sure,” Louis says and regrets it immediately.

\---  
Louis decides he hates his job after the twenty-seventh plate of the night gets sent back. The diner he works at might as well be on Hell’s Kitchen, so when his favorite co-worker, Alex, pulls him aside in the kitchen and whisper-yells that a goddamn fucking celebrity has walked into the restaurant, he’s convinced it’s Gordon Ramsay. 

Because of this momentary lapse of judgment, he agrees to switch sections with Alex because she swears this is her favorite celebrity and if she has to wait on him she can’t guarantee that she won’t vomit all over him. It occurs to Louis as he’s walking out of the kitchen that he knows who Alex’s favorite celebrity is, and it isn’t Gordon Ramsay. It’s Harry fucking Styles.

Lo and behold, Harry Styles is sitting in a dingy booth with cracked vinyl seats and wallpaper peeling onto the table. Louis considers going back and switching with Alex again because now he thinks he’s going to vomit. Across from Harry is his bleach blonde guitarist, Niall Horan, who Louis actually follows on twitter because he’s pretty damn funny, Niall is on his phone and Louis wonders if he’s tweeting something about this shitty diner right now. Next to Niall is the band’s bassist, Sandy, and next to Harry is his drummer, Rian. 

Louis knows this because four months ago Harry showed him pictures of all his tour members as if he were actually going to introduce Louis to these people. The need to vomit is replacing by a throbbing longing that’s much worse.  
“Hi, my name’s Louis, and I’ll be your server today. What can I get for you?”

His voice is chipper until he can’t force it anymore, and it breaks on the last word. 

“Yeah,” Harry doesn’t look up from the menu. “I want some tacos.”

“This is a breakfast diner. We don’t serve tacos.”

“Well, I want tacos.”

“Then you should’ve gone somewhere that actually serves fucking tacos!” Harry looks up. His face flashes with shock before it turns apologetic. 

“Could I get the eggs benedict then, please?” His voice is soft just like it was four months ago and Louis wants to melt. He nods. He’s halfway to the kitchen before he realizes that he’s forgotten to take all of the other orders at the table. 

He walks back like it’s the walk of shame, and apologizes.

“Sorry I’m just,” he makes eye contact with Harry, “tired.” He takes the rest of the orders and considers asking his boss to leave early, but that would be the third time this week and Louis’s already on pretty thin ice with his boss. Not that he cares. But he needs a job, so he doesn’t care, but only like 25%. 

Louis delivers the food to Harry’s table without incident (expect his hand shakes a little bit as he’s refilling Harry’s water glass and a little bit of water spills on Harry’s pants, but Louis decides that doesn’t count). Five minutes, Louis returns to check on them (and probably return their plates to the kitchen.

“Hi, are you guys enjoying your food?”

“No,” Harry says. “This is dreadful.”

“Yes, the eggs benedict is probably our worst item.”

“Then why didn’t you stop me from ordering it?”

“Because you were being a jackass about the tacos,” and Louis doesn’t mean to say quip back at Harry, but he can’t help it. A blush spreads up Harry’s neck.

“I was. I’m sorry.” 

“And you never called me back.” And Louis’s mouth must be determined to dig its own grave.

Harry’s blush reddens, and Louis can feel his own cheeks heating up. “I know. I’m sorry. I wanted to-” Louis cuts him off by grabbing Harry’s eggs benedict and walking away as fast as possible.

“What the fuck?” Niall asks. Harry doesn’t explain. He stands up and follows Louis. 

“Hey,” he puts a hand on his shoulder to stop Louis. “You can go home with me tonight. I mean if you want. I don’t know. I’m dumb.”

“I can leave right now. My shift’s nearly over.” And clearly Louis really doesn’t care about keeping his job, or what his boss thinks of him.


	2. Chapter 2 (possibly)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically a filler chapter. Next chapter will have much more action I promise. It'll be out late tonight or somewhat early tomorrow, depending on my mood lol.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo, what up. So I haven't written any fan fiction since like eighth grade, so like I forgot how fucking fun it was. I'm already writing chapter three which has a lot more going on than this one. But I wanted to post something today, and Dance Moms is on tonight and your girl is not missing that, so I figured I'd post something early. This is wholly unedited (honestly thank fuck i hate editing), so feel free to point out any mistakes! I will correct. :)

This time Harry falls asleep before daybreak, after winning at Life this time – which makes Louis grumble because Harry’s already beat Louis at real life what with his millions of dollars, and sold-out concerts, and record breaking chart toppers, so it’s not fair that Harry gets to win the game too – and Louis forces himself to slink out an hour after listening to Harry’s soft snores. Harry’s hotel is closer to Louis’s flat this time, which makes the walk of shame shorter, but it still feels unbearably long.

Maybe because Louis knows that after this he will go back to pining after Harry and waiting for a call that will never come and working at the diner and living in his shit two-bedroom with Liam for the rest of his life and Harry will go back to winning at real life, too. Louis supposes that maybe one day he will tell his grandchildren that the most exciting thing he’s ever done is sleep with music legend Harry fucking Styles. Except he’ll never have grandchildren because he’ll never get over Harry, so he’ll never even tell anybody that the sex was just as good the second time.

And the afterwards too.

Louis remembers a phrase from a science class three years ago, ‘positive feedback loop’. Louis is pretty sure that’s what his relationship with Harry is, except he failed that class and every other class at university so he’s pretty sure he doesn’t know jack shit about positive feedback loops. 

He wishes, like he does all of the time, that he’d never flunked out of school because maybe then fucking Harry Styles wouldn’t be the most exciting thing that’s happened to him in years. But then, if he hadn’t flunked out he’d probably never have met Harry in the first place. 

Louis wonders if this is a negative feedback loop, but he decides it’s probably not because he’s not quite sure that a negative feedback loop is actually something that exists. He decides to get over Harry by watching Hell’s Kitchen and pretending he never even swiped right in the first place.

\----  
It takes Louis six hours to realize his phone is missing. And he only realizes because Liam bursts into their apartment looking absolutely hysterical. 

“Louis! What the fuck? I’ve called you six times! Where were you last night?”

“Sorry, it must be on silent or-” Louis puts his hand on the spot beside him. What? “It’s not here.”

“Jesus, Lou, that’s like the fifth time this month,” but Louis is not listening.

Because holy fuck. “I left it at Harry’s.”

“Who’s Harry?” And Louis explains, sort of, about how Harry had come into the diner last night and Louis had gone home with him. He doesn’t say anything about the tinder date four months ago. Except Liam looks at Louis like he doesn’t believe a word that’s coming out of his mouth, and Louis relents. Louis doesn’t, however, elaborate on how he’s spent the last four months waiting for Harry’s call. Liam, unfortunately, figures that out for himself.

“Oh…so that’s why you’ve been in a funk these past few months.” Louis bristles and Liam changes course. “Well, unless Harry’s a complete asshole, which to be honest it kind of sounds like he is, he probably dropped your phone off at the diner.” 

\----  
Alex drops the phone into his hand unceremoniously. “I’m pulling a triple. I’m too fucking tired to ask.” She will though, once she’s gone home and slept for fourteen hours. “Wait,” she rummages through her pockets. “He gave me these too, and you better take me because Harry Styles is my favorite celebrity I told you this.” Louis looks at the thin strips of cardboard.

Concert tickets. And yeah, that pisses Louis off. Because who is Harry fucking Styles to think that Louis wants to go see him in concert after they’ve ejaculated and evacuated twice now. Harry Styles has a lot of fucking nerve, and Louis looks up to tell Alex that she can just have the tickets, but she is gone. 

The concert is a month and a half from now, and it’s in London which is a two and a half hour train ride away, which means that they will probably have to spend the night, which means they will probably have to take time off work, and Louis is already on very thin ice with his boss because he only cares about 18%.

“Don’t worry about it,” Alex has slept for a full sixteen hours and stretches out like a cat across his kitchen chair. She takes a drink from the water glass in front of her. Alex drinks like it is her first time trying water, messy and loudly gulping. She sets it down and grins at Louis, and Louis is thinking about Harry’s grin and Harry’s eyes and the way Harry drinks water almost silently, beautifully, if a person can drink water beautifully. “I got both of us time off. And a hotel room and train tickets.” 

If Louis weren’t gay he’d probably kiss her on the mouth, because he hasn’t realized just how much he wants to see Harry again until now. He settles for grinning back at her, and wondering why the fuck Harry fucking Styles wants Louis to come to one of his concerts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it, lol. Feel free to leave any constructive criticism, or non-constructive criticism, or praise or like whatever. this is 88,000 words, i promise, i'd never lie to you.


	3. Chapter 3 (perhaps)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex and Louis go to the concert. Good times. Lol.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this was going to be longer, but I really liked the ending, so yeah. I have more, which will probably be up by tomorrow morning.
> 
> I forgot how fucking invigorating it is to write without agonizing over every sentence.
> 
> This is 100% unedited, feel free to point out any mistakes, constructive criticism, praise, non-construstive criticism, I mean I'm here for everything.

In order for them to take time off for the concert, both Louis and Alex average about 60 hours a week. Which is bad because Louis comes home every night with aching feet and a sore back and a head filled with other people’s breakfast preferences. But it’s also good because it takes Louis’s mind off of Harry because Louis doesn’t like to think about Harry.

Right?

But he does like to think about Harry. He likes to think about Harry being too close to him, and reaching out and touching his butterfly tattoo and breathing in his scent and maybe one day beating him at a board game. But probably not, after all, Harry’s ego couldn’t take it. 

The day before the concert, Alex brings in doughnuts for everybody. Their boss is pissed because the doughnuts are much better than the food actually served at the diner and some of the customers look over at them with a sense of longing. 

“Are you excited?” Louis asks Alex. 

“Not really. I hate concerts. I used to date a guy in a band, right. They weren’t any good. Actually they were total shit, now that I think about it. But I went to all of his shows because like, I’m a supportive girlfriend; I didn’t even like him that much, but he was really hot. Actually, he wasn’t really that hot. But, long story short, he broke up with me in the middle of a concert. Which like, I didn’t care we only dated for like, a month, but still, what the fuck?” Louis laughs because Alex is full of shit. She joins in. “Okay, fine. I saw that story on Reddit, but like if it had happened to me, I would totally hate concerts.”

\----  
Louis’s only been to three concerts before. He went to see Sarah MacLauchlan (re: Arms of the Angels) once when he was twelve, and she said “holy shit” on stage and Louis thought she was super edgy. Then, in eighth grade he’d seen All Time Low twice. The first time someone had cussed out his best friend’s dad (fun), and the second time someone had cussed him out for sitting down in a mosh pit (more fun). 

So yeah, Louis’s kind of nervous.

Their seats are nosebleed (and like, what the fuck Harry, you couldn’t have gotten your Tinder match the front row?), but the cover bands are pretty cool, and they’re trying to sing along when an usher comes up to them. 

“Excuse me, you two are in the wrong seats.” 

“Whoops, I’m sorry, I guess I read the tickets wrong. That’s my bad.” Alex laughs. “Where are we supposed to be?”

“I’ll take you there now,” he says, and Louis and Alex follow, in semi-shocked silence. 

Their new seats are in the front row, center section. 

 

Ten minutes into Harry’s set, Louis realizes that neither he nor Alex knows a single Harry Styles song, and Louis has to yell over the roar of Harry’s music.

“I thought Harry Styles was your favorite celebrity?”

“Yeah, but only because I think he’s hot,” she runs a hand through her hair and pauses to sing along with a chorus – getting every word wrong – “I don’t actually listen to his music or anything.” Louis laughs, and he begins to sing along, too.

They sing along (completely incorrectly) to two more songs before Harry announces that he needs help singing his next song and asks his band members to pull some people up stage. Louis, luckily, suddenly realizes that his shoes are the most interesting things on Earth and avoids eye contact with Harry and all of the band members. Alex, however, is not so lucky. Probably because she is yelling, “pick me!” as loudly as she can. Louis rolls his eyes when Niall Horan pulls Alex onstage and she not so subtly makes eyes at him. 

Harry looks at Alex with recognition and looks to see Louis in the crowd, but Louis has rediscovered his shoes and avoids eye contact with Harry at all cost. He remembers an old post. What if you where in a room with everyone you’ve ever had sex with? 

And, yeah, the Greek God that is Harry Fucking Styles would look pretty weird sitting next to all of Louis’s old endeavors. 

Everything goes relatively well for Alex, well, if you consider making up every word as she goes along and Harry fucking Styles sending her a ‘what the fuck’ look, and her laughing and making eyes at him and gesturing toward Louis and Louis not having time to drop his gaze to the floor so he makes eye contact with the green eyes that have encompassed his dreams for five and a half months now, going well, which Louis does not, but Alex slipping on stage as she’s trying to climb back and crushing her knee is (arguably) worse than Harry and Louis’s awkward eye contact. 

Niall runs over to Alex, and the music stops as he yells for a medic. And even though Alex is in an insurmountable amount of pain, she grabs Niall’s shirt and asks if it’s made of boyfriend material. Luckily, the shock of Alex’s fall has silenced the stadium and everybody hears it. Louis groans.  
When the ambulance arrives, Niall decides that it’s in his best interest to go too, and his guitar tech probably knows all of the songs better than he does, so he and Louis load in through the back door often.

“So,” Louis asks Niall, once the ambulance has begun to race toward the nearest hospital, “come here often?” 

“Louis you’re not allowed to flirt with him. We have much bigger things to worry about,” Alex chides as Niall laughs.

“Like what?”

“Like the fact that I don’t have any fucking insurance.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be longer I promise. (be warned that's not worth much lol), and I have some plans for Harry/Louis action. I know I've been pretty lacking in that so far. I hope this was as exciting to read as it was to write.


	4. )Chapter 4 (or not...?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Big time oof. Louis and Harry do sex, but I didn't write that part because I don't write sex scenes lol.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pretty sure yesterday I said I would have this up "early today" which is dumb because I would literally never do that. Anyway, I really hope you enjoy this chapter, or like you could hate it to I'm cool with anything, really.
> 
> This is totally unedited, I'm completely aware that this is riddled with mistakes because I'm not fucking editing this story. That said, feel free to point out any mistakes or leave constructive criticism or not constructive criticism I'm not picky.

  
Harry Styles knows how to make an entrance.

Louis wonders if this is something that they teach in pop-star school, but Louis figures pop-star school is probably not an actual thing and he’s being an idiot. Again. Harry bursts through the doors of the emergency room waiting area as if he owns the place. He does not, well, as far as Louis is aware.

Harry catches Louis’s eyes. “Lou.”

“Don’t…don’t call me that. We’re not in bed.”

“Sorry, uh,” and Louis is certain that Harry doesn’t actually remember his name. He’s only called him Louis once, in the bedroom it’s always been ‘Lou’ or ‘oh god please don’t stop’ or ‘holy shit how did you get so good at that’, but never Louis. “Louis, how’s your friend?”

“She’s okay. She shattered her kneecap and can’t walk on it for three months. She’s back with the doctor working out a payment plan.”

“No.”  
“No? You asked me and that’s where she is.”

“I mean,” Harry is flustered, and Louis notices the sweat stains that mar his shirt. He wipes more sweat off his forehead. 

“Did you run here?” Louis interrupts him, not because he cares, because that would mean he cares about Harry’s wellbeing and he does not, but Harry has paused for too long and Louis wants to remember his voice forever.

“No, of course not, that would be…ridiculous…” Harry cocks his head to the side and sticks out his tongue in a pant, in an imitation of a dog that Louis does not find adorable. “Yeah, I ran here. Where’s Niall?”

“He’s in the bathroom.”

“He likes your friend, by the way, they met after she took over our table when we left. At the diner.”

“Yeah. She mentioned that. She has a thing for musicians. One of her exes broke up with her on stage at one of his concerts; she’s never really gotten over him I don’t think. But they only dated for like a month.” This is the most he’s said to Harry outside of a hotel bedroom, so why the fuck is he rambling like an idiot about Alex’s fake break-up story. But Harry laughs. It’s magic.

“Yeah, uh, where is she again?”

“Working out a payment plan with the doctor. Room 303.”

“No-”

“I’m telling the truth, you gotta stop saying no when I tell you facts-”

“No I mean, my insurance will cover it, she slipped at my concert, so it’s my responsibility.”

“Well that’s good,” Louis says, “because Alex doesn’t have any fucking insurance.”  
\----  
Alex is cleared to leave an hour later, and Niall has asked her for a cup of coffee, so they leave together, Niall’s hand steadying Alex’s back as she lumbers forward on the crutches.

“You know a girl in my sixth-grade English class shattered her kneecap. She was the reason I played volleyball that year, so I met this girl’s abusive stepdad, scared me half to death…” Alex’s voice has faded out of earshot, and Louis frowns at the loss of comfort provided by the familiar story. Louis likes to think it’s true, but, knowing Alex, it’s probably not.

Louis slumps in his chair and turns his head to look at Harry who is leaning against the wall. Louis wonders if he’s trying to look cool. It’s not working. Harry just looks tired. 

“Are you trying to look cool?” Louis wants someone to take out a gun and just shoot him because obviously he doesn’t deserve to be here if he can’t control his fucking, goddamn mouth.

“Maybe, a little bit,” Harry grins, “is it working?”

“No,” Louis half squints, “you don’t look like a pop-star.”

“Really? What do I look like then?”

“An accountant.” Harry laughs his magical laugh again, even though Louis is not joking. 

“Do you want to go back to my hotel room?” Louis yawns.

“You just gave me those concert tickets so I would have sex with you again.”

Harry flounders for half a second, and Louis takes comfort in it. “I mean, that was the end goal, yes. But we don’t have to have sex - we could just sleep. Or talk. I have Sorry up there, if you’d like to play that.  
Louis laughs. Not magically like Harry, because Louis is not magical, but it’s still sweet and it encompasses the empty waiting room. 

\----  
They do, actually, end up having sex. Twice, because Louis is afraid to stop, afraid of strengthening the bond that they have already formed, and while the sex is amazing and wonderful and possibly the best he’s ever had, it’s just sex. Louis’s afraid that the sex will stop and he will fall in love with Harry even more, and then he will be ignored for another four months.

After the sex, they play six rounds of Sorry. Harry wins, because Louis is constantly aware of his fragile ego, so he lets the green eyed-man win. And then Louis lets his guard down enough to fall asleep, his head resting on Harry’s chest. It’s the best he’s ever slept, not that he would admit that, because it is over too soon and he is back on the train with Alex, heading home to their shitty jobs, and his shitty flat, and his shitty roommate, Liam, who always puts empty milk jugs back in the refrigerator. 

“Sooo, how was your date?” Louis asks Alex, because he wants to take the focus off of him and Harry. He knows it will already be painful enough without gushing over it. 

“Uh…” Alex pauses, and licks her lips, something she always does when she’s thinking. “I don’t think Niall and I are compatible. He’s a really cool guy, kisses like a wet whoopee cushion, though,” Alex pauses to let Louis laugh. It’s more forced than normal, and even though he knows Alex notices, she doesn’t say anything. Louis’s grateful for that at least. “We exchanged phone numbers, we’re gonna try to keep in touch as just friends, because with both like each other, we just don’t like like each other. You know? Well, you wouldn’t know, but not everyone can be you and Harry.”

Louis winces.

“Sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

“So, just like normal, then?” Alex laughs, and Louis thinks her laugh is magical too. He likes to think there are magical people, like Alex, like Harry. And maybe they’re put on Earth to help the non-magic people, like Louis, like Liam and Zayn and maybe Niall. 

Maybe once Harry realizes how magical he is, Louis won’t have to sneak out before he wakes up.

Or maybe not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I'll have another chapter tomorrow. (not early) This is 999,999 words, I would never lie about word count because I am literally Abe Lincoln.


	5. mambo number 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> we get unnecessary background information about Louis and Alex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo, i wrote this a little early because I'm taking a break from writing college essays because this is literally the opposite of that. This isn't edited, no proofreading from your girl. Feel free to point out any mistakes. Constructive and not constructive criticism is always welcome. I might post later today because I feel bad because Harry's not in the chapter but I promise you he is coming (not like that get your mind out of the fucking gutter).

In the two and a half weeks since Harry’s concert, Alex has gone on 15 first dates. Louis knows she’s always been a serial dater, but this is a lot, even for her. 

“I just like first dates, okay!” Is Alex’s exasperated answer when Louis asks her, trying very hard to lose any accusation in his voice. He knows not to ask her any questions while she’s working a triple, which is all the time, it seems, even though she’s only supposed to work single shifts with her shattered kneecap. 

Two days later is Alex’s Fourth of July party, which is really Louis’s only reminder (aside from the fact that every time she opens up her mouth, she sounds like Texas), that Alex is violently American. Alex wears her American flag jeans and a dark blue shirt, and makes Louis wear a NASCAR hat – something that makes him look “aggressively American,” according to her. She bakes red, white, and blue cupcakes which are surprisingly wonderfully, and decorates her apartment with American flags – although they could hang up there year-round, Louis wouldn’t know, as he’s only every allowed in her apartment on the Fourth of July.

Louis figures that it’s because her flat is worse than his, probably owing to the fact that Alex refuses to live with a roommate. But, Louis doesn’t get American TV, so once a year he makes a trek to Alex’s apartment where they sit on her lumpy couch and watch shitty American television. 

“I’m sorry,” Alex tells him when he walks through the door. “I do like first dates, though. I like the flirting stage and I like when you don’t know the other person and you’re both on your best behavior and I don’t know…” she closes her eyes, “really I’m just scared of commitment.” 

Louis nods because, although Alex has never admitted it, this isn’t news to him. “Niall Horan doesn’t actually kiss like a wet whoopee cushion. My high school boyfriend said his ex kissed like that once. I dunno it kind of stuck. He kisses really well, and he’s…we talk every night before I go to bed, and like I can work a triple shift and talk to him after and I don’t want to kill him after every word he says. But like – we’re the same height, and that’s petty or whatever, but what if we go out and I want to wear six inch heels and then I’m way taller than him and it’s awkward?”

“I hate to break it to you, but you don’t own any six-inch heels.”

“But what if I want to go buy some, Lou? What if suddenly I have this insatiable urge to only wear stilettos, what if I make a decision and it’s the wrong one? That’s why I didn’t go to college, you know.”

Louis sits in the single armchair, which he’s learned is (slightly) more comfortable than the couch, an invitation for his best friend to share her personal life. She takes the couch, bringing her knees up to her chest.

“I was a pretty good student in high school. Not the best, not great, but pretty good. I didn’t like to study, so I just kind of did the bare minimum and accepted what I got out of it. My test scores were pretty good too, because I’m good at shit like that. So I got in college some pretty good colleges, not the best schools ever, but they were good schools. I got some scholarship money too, because of my test scores. And so I had all of these offers and I was supposed to make decision right, and like that decision would shape the rest of my life and like what if I picked a school and I hated it and then I wasted my parents’ money and I don’t know – I just decided to move to England and get the first job I could find. My parents were really pissed off, but they couldn’t stop me. I haven’t seen them since I left. I guess I’m just waiting until I have something to show for it.”

“Do you,” Louis bites his lip, “do you regret not going to college?”

“Sometimes. But then you’ll smile at me, or someone will leave a twenty dollar tip or – if me and Niall work out that would be wonderful, but your friendship is more important to me than any relationship. I used to always discredit my friends whenever I had a boyfriend because I was so wrapped up in him that I thought they didn’t matter as much. But I think that’s bullshit. Okay?”

Alex sounds deathly serious, something that Louis has never experienced in the two years he’s known her so he just nods silently. There’s a beat.

“When I flunked of university, my mom saw my report card and she just said ‘you didn’t even try, did you?’ and she was right, I didn’t try. I wish I had,” but even as he says it Louis knows it’s not true, because if he hadn’t flunked out of college he would have never met Liam and been roommates with him and he would have never had his shitty job that he totally hates and he would have never met Alex and he probably never would have celebrated the Fourth of July once in his entire life. And he would have never matched with Harry fucking Styles on Tinder. Louis thinks that Harry Styles is worth more than any fucking university diploma. “Well, maybe I don’t wish that. Things could’ve been very different. And if the diner shuts down it might be nice to have a degree, but I don’t so I guess it really doesn’t matter.”

“You’re right. It doesn’t.” There’s a knock on the door.

“Who’s that? I thought these parties were exclusive.”

“They are, but this time I invited some more guests,” Louis pales, “c’mon Lou, it won’t be that bad,” Alex says as she walks over to the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ooh, who could be at the door? We all know who it is, but like what if i'm really mean and it was the fucking mailman or some shit, lol.
> 
> this is 499,999 words. i never lie about word count it is that many words.


	6. sexy number six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some Louis/Harry action. It's all just development leave me alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the coalition app shut down on me so here I am, being distracted by my things that are not productive.
> 
> this is not edited, so feel free to point out any mistakes or suggestions or kind or unkind words, i'm not particular. 
> 
> more louis/harry action (i won't call it larry, this is the hill i will fucking die on) is coming i promise i'm just figuring out how i want to play it.

Halfway through the first episode of Jersey Shore, Alex’s TV cuts out.  
“Fuck! I knew I forgot to pay that bill.” She is sitting on the lumpy couch, half cuddling Niall Horan. Harry Styles is sitting on the floor, his back between Louis’s legs on the armchair. Every once in a while Harry will lean his head and give one of Louis’s legs a meaningful rub. At least, Louis thinks it’s meaningful. Harry might just have really bad dandruff.   
“But it’s okay!” Alex gets up and rummages through her closet. “I have a signed copy of Trivial Pursuit,” she throws it to Louis who, surprisingly, catches it. “My cousin met the creators of Trivial Pursuit, right. So the story is, they were all really drunk and trying to invent this board game, and they were gonna call it Trivia Pursuit, but this guy’s drunk wife goes ‘no, no, no, no we gotta call it Trivial pursuit, and they thought it was all genius. My cousin gave me it to me when I moved here.” She takes out the board and starts setting up the pieces. Louis and Niall move to down to the floor with Harry.

It is not hot in Alex’s apartment – she remembered to pay the air conditioning bill, but Harry has unbuttoned the majority of his shirt. Louis doesn’t like it. Not one bit.

“If you’re just going to unbutton it that much why do you even bother with wearing a shirt?”

“Do you not like it?”

Of course he does. “Of course not. It’s trashy.”

“I thought we were at a trashy American party.”

“Hey! Don’t insult my party or my country. You’re just jealous because we have better musicians!”

Harry coughs something that sounds like “Beatles”

“Elvis.”

“Rolling Stones.”

“Buddy Holly. He’s from my hometown, actually. Lubbock, Texas.” Alex laughs her magical laugh and Louis finds himself once again wishing he were magical.

“Well what about modern musicians. Like me?”

“I think we’ve established that neither of us knows any of your music, Harry,” Louis says, holding back a snort of laughter.

“So, you can say it, then.”

“What?”

“That’s about the first time you’ve ever said my name, Lou.”

“You’re not allowed to call me Lou outside of the bedroom.”

“Well you can call me Big Dick Daddy inside or outside the bedroom, I promise I don’t mind.” Alex and Niall laugh obnoxiously, and Louis sends Alex a death glare.

“I’ve never called you that,” his face is very red, and he sends Alex a pleading look.

“Louis and I have a marriage pact. If we’re both single by the time we’re forty we’re getting hitched. Because, you know, tax benefits. But marriage as an institution is actually ridiculous, because our society supposedly values monogamy, but a union that’s so often and easily broken has such little value-”

“Alex this isn’t a TED-talk, please shut up.” But Louis is grateful for the change of subject.

“Do you two have a marriage pact?”

Harry flushes. “Yeah, actually. And Sandy and Rian have one, too. Rian actually ended it with his fiancée recently, and we were all shocked. They’d been dating for nine years.”

Alex licks her lips like she’s thinking again, and then proceeds to win seventeen rounds of Trivial Pursuit. Louis and Niall gave up after the fourth round, tired of tying for dead last, but Harry’s ego is bruised, Louis assumes, and he keeps challenging Alex to rematch after rematch.   
“Just let him win once,” Louis whispers in Alex’s ear after they set up the game for another go. “He’s famous which means I could kill myself jumping from his ego to his IQ.” Louis doesn’t actually mean that. He hates the bastard for not giving him the time of day, but he doesn’t think Harry’s stupid. 

So Alex loses on purpose to Harry – just like Louis always does with they’re in bed together, and Alex gives Niall a look that Louis has seen many a time, so he decides to haul ass as fast as he can. Harry offers to walk him home and Louis tries to say no, he really does, but somehow the words get lost from his brain to his throat and all that comes out is a desperate, too-eager “of course!”

“Your friend makes really good cupcakes,” Harry says, conversationally, as they begin the fourteen-block walk to Louis’s place. 

“Yeah, that girl’s an anomaly,” Louis says unconversationally, because maybe Harry is ridiculously good at sex and board games and being a pillow and talking through the night with, but that does not mean that Louis wants anything more to do with him. 

“I used to work at a bakery before I auditioned for the X-Factor, you know.”

“I wouldn’t know, actually. I don’t care to follow your personal life story.” Harry laughs even though it wasn’t a joke.

“Well I did, I still love to bake. And I can cook too. It’s something I really enjoy. You know, since you don’t follow my personal life story.”

“My roommate actually banned me from the kitchen, the third time I started a fire. You know, if you wanted to follow MY life story,” and Harry laughs, which is good because this time it was a joke. “Liam can’t cook either, so we eat a lot of take-out mostly. Which is probably not good, but who cares.”

“I care,” Harry says it so softly Louis is sure that he’s misheard. 

“If you really cared, you would call me.” Louis bites back, on the off chance that he hasn’t misheard, and Harry looks like he’s just been slapped. 

“I didn-”

“We’re here.” Louis gestures to the sixth story walk-up. “We live at the top, which is probably a good thing because we have to balance out all the take-out we eat.”

“Lou I-”

“The stairs are a pretty good work out which is probably why we haven’t moved. That and working at the diner doesn’t exactly pay very well.”

“Louis-”

“The tips are very good either, which is stupid because like it’s not my fault that the food sucks I’m just your friendly neighborhood waiter-”

“Louis, I swear to god!”

“What, Harry?”

And then the green eyes are leaning in and Harry kisses Louis in front of his apartment building. Louis tries to fight him at first, but Harry’s arms keep him firmly planted on the ground, and, eventually, Louis kisses back.

It’s best he’s ever been kissed.

When he finally has to pull away, to catch his breath, Louis places a hand a Harry’s chest. “Maybe this time you’ll call me.” Louis is rewarded with a flash a dimples and he thinks that maybe tonight is a victory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is 38,000,000 words i've never told a lie in my entire fucking life.
> 
> love u fam, hope reading this is as much as a stress reliever for you as writing it is for me :)


	7. seven ate nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this was the chapter i promised myself i'd write when i tagged this as a soul mate au. unfortunately, there's no harry/louis action, but this chapter is developmentally huge, and i hope you enjoy it even without that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking about writing another fan fiction after this once because jesus fuck they really good for stress relief and i enjoy it. Any thoughts?
> 
> this is not edited, so feel free to point out any mistakes, leave non-constructive or constructive criticism or unrelated comments i'm really open to anything. love you.

Harry doesn’t call. In fact, Harry does the exact opposite of call, that is to say, Harry shows up in every tabloid ever written as fucking everything that breathes. Well, everything except Louis.

In retaliation, Louis lets Liam drag him to clubs, lets Alex set him up with a slew of “suitors”, lets Zayn set up a dating profile for him on Grindr. Louis sleeps with over a dozen men in the span of four weeks, so it’s not really surprising when Louis notices a rash forming around his cock in the shower. He turns the spray off.

“LIAM!” He yells, frantically, and Liam sprints into the bathroom with a barrage of questions.

“What’s wrong, Lou? Did you slip? Are you okay?”

“No,” Louis answers, calmly. “Liam, look at my balls.”

“Listen, I know you’re trying to get over Harry, but I’m not interested, I thought we were clear on that…”

“I’m not trying to sleep with you, I just want you to look at my balls, okay?”

“Uh…” Louis swings the shower door open, narrowly missing Liam’s face, and Liam takes a tentative step forward.

“This rash,” Louis traces the irritated skin with the pad of his thumb, “does it look like herpes to you?”

“Um…” Liam thinks back to his limited knowledge of STDs. “I don’t know. Isn’t herpes more like red bumps than a rash…?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never had herpes before, that’s why I’m asking you.”

“I’m never had herpes either!” Liam takes another couple of steps toward Louis to get a closer look at the inflamed skin surrounding Louis’s cock and balls. “That’s a pretty nasty rash though. I’m not sure if it’s herpes, but you should definitely get that checked out by a doctor, mate.”

Louis huffs and slams the shower door shut, turning the water back on. He knows that Liam is probably right about him needing to see a doctor, but, like Alex, he doesn’t have any fucking insurance. He was hoping that Liam could just straight up tell him what was wrong. Unfortunately, Liam’s not a doctor either.

\----  
Three days later the rash as spread across his pelvis up to his chest, and it feels like someone has set Louis’s entire body on fire. His skin is peeling off in huge strips, like a sunburn but a thousand times worse. Louis has called in sick from work and opts to lay between his cool sheets with six ice packs wrapped tightly around his chest, secured with a towel. 

Louis hears the door open and the unmistakable sound of Zayn laughing. Oh right, tonight is Liam and Zayn’s movie night, Louis is usually working and Liam was at work when he called in sick. Liam is laughing now, too, and Louis’s head is already pounding from the pain of his fucking rash. But, maybe Zayn will know something Liam doesn’t.

Louis forces himself to climb out of bed, and wraps the towel tighter around his chest, trying desperately to secure the ice packs – his only source of comfort. He walks down the hallway as fast as he can without losing any ice packs or collapsing, which is not very fast. When he finally makes it to the living room, his presence startles Liam out of a kiss, “what the fuck, mate?” But then he takes another look at Louis’s disastrous state and repeats himself. “What the fuck, mate?”

Louis ignores him. “Zayn, have you ever had herpes?” 

Zayn looks at Louis, first offended, but then slightly bewildered as he takes in Louis’s appearance.  
“No…? What’s going on?”

Louis drops the towel, and both Liam and Zayn let out a gasp at the rash that has taken over most of Louis’s torso. 

“I think I have herpes.”

“Mate, there is no way that’s herpes,” Zayn’s face has paled and looks slightly green. 

“Something is wrong, Louis. You need to go to the doctor. Like, yesterday.” Liam is using his no-nonsense, no-room-for-arguing, voice, the one that makes Louis’s balls shrink to the size of peas. 

“Alright, fine. I’ll call and make an appointment. But can you have movie night at Zayn’s place? The pain is giving me an awful headache.”

“Yeah, sure, dude,” Zayn grabs Liam and makes his way out of the apartment as fast as he can. Louis sighs.

The soonest appointment he can get is tomorrow at 3pm, so Louis will have to miss another day of work. So, Louis spends the next 18 hours in bed with no sheets now, because his body is too hot for sheets. He switches his ice packs out every twenty minutes, but they still offer his inflamed body very little relief. The rash is starting to tease his neck and upper thighs and Louis thinks that he’s probably in an episode of the Twilight Zone, which is not on his agenda, so he hopes it ends quickly.

Louis turns on his clock radio, which he never uses, but he’s desperate for any form of distraction from the all-encompassing pain that his is rash. A Harry Styles song is playing. That makes him feel slightly better, except he doesn’t know why because Louis has decided that he hates Harry Styles.

\----  
The doctor’s office is not very busy, which is nice, but the doctor is still thirty minutes late to see Louis, which is not nice. 

Louis decided that it would be too difficult to travel with ice packs strapped to him, and that it wasn’t worth it because they really only offered minimal comfort. He regrets that decision now.

He’s dressed in a thin tank top and his loosest pair of joggers, but he feels like he’s covered in cinder blocks. He follows the nurse back to the doctor’s room, and immediately takes his shirt off. There is relief, but not enough.

When the doctor walks in, he drops his clipboard.

“I think I have herpes,” Louis says, conversationally.

“That,” the doctor says, “is not herpes.” He examines Louis’s rash, asks some questions, and takes some samples of Louis’s skin and promises that he will perform all of the tests as quickly as possible. He’s back in half an hour with a concerned look on his face.

“Well,” The doctor starts, but falters, “we did all the testing we could in house. We sent the samples to our lab and we should have those results back in two weeks, but we’re pretty sure we know what’s wrong. I’ve just…I’ve never actually seen this happen before.”

“What’s wrong? Was I right, is it herpes?”

The doctor almost laughs. “No, it’s not herpes. But,” the doctor takes a deep breath. “It seems that you have a soul mate, Mr. Tomlinson, and both of you are rejecting the bond.”

“Well, who the fuck is my soul mate?”

“Since, the rash has developed thus far, you’ve probably had extensive physical contact with them…uh…sex…and probably relatively recently. But you’ve both had sexual contact with others, and your body isn’t responding well to the rejection.”

“Are soul mates even a real thing? Like what the fuck, I thought that was just something parents told their children, like Santa Claus, or the tooth fairy.” The doctor laughs, humorlessly.

“Soul mates are real, but very, very rare.”

“Well, are you sure that’s what this is?”

“We won’t know until we have all the lab results, but our in-house tests were pretty conclusive.”

“How do I make the rash go away?” Louis feels like he might cry. This is ridiculous. He doesn’t need a fucking soul mate. He isn’t even over Harry yet - he’s sure as hell not ready for that kind of commitment.

“Well, for the short term we can provide y0u with a medication that treats the symptoms – not the rash, but for the long term you will need to find your soul mate.”

“How do I know who it is?”

“It’s not an exact science, but there will be a strong chemical reaction between you two. Also, they will probably have a rash, too.”

“Great, now I just need to find everyone I’ve had sex with in the past four weeks and find out if they have rash too. Easy money.” And holy fuck. Louis can’t do this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is 5,000,000,000 words long (actually i got kind of caught up so it's a little longer than usual)
> 
> i know we all love a good soul mate tattoo au, I know i do, because those are cool as fuck, but i thought it would be nice to do things a little differently. 
> 
> thoughts?


	8. i'm eight(y) (aye matey)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is just a filler but basically louis and harry work it out. better things to come i promise, i have some plans i think

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is kind of shit, but it's necessary for plot development, it wasn't super fun to write but oh well thats cool. i love you guys you know the drill.

The medication does help with the symptoms; Louis doesn’t know why this surprises him, maybe because the rash continues to spread, down his thighs and arms. Louis is able to work, because the pain is bearable now but his boss demands that he completely covers his arms, legs, and neck, lest any customer sees and the rash and is scared away – like Louis’s rash is any scarier than the food.

“So,” Louis finishes telling Alex what the doctor told him, “all I need to do is find everyone I’ve slept with in the past four weeks, find out if they have a rash, and then bam I’ve found my soul mate and the rash goes away.”

“Um Louis,” Alex pauses, thinks, and then changes her mind. “Sure, let’s do things your way.”  
Louis quirks an eyebrow up. “What’s your way?”

“My way is what we’ll do when your way fails.”

“My way won’t fail, Alex. Stop being so negative.”  
\----  
They try Louis’s way for two weeks before he realizes that tracking every guy he’s fucked in the past four weeks and seeing if they have a rash is futile. To add insult to injury, the medicine his doctor gave him is wearing off, and Louis has begun to take double the recommended dosage just to feel any sort of relief. 

Harry calls him on Thursday. Louis’s called in sick from work, again, because the pain as notched back up to an unbearable level, and when Louis first sees it he thinks that his rash has caused him to hallucinate. 

“Hello?” It’s painful to talk at this point, because the rash has spread up to his jaw, and painful strips of skin fall off every time he eats or sleeps.

“Hey Lou,” Harry sounds bad, too and Louis wonders if he is sick. Louis doesn’t bother to correct him about the Lou thing. Nothing matters except for this rash. “Do you-” Harry falters, tries again, “Do you have a rash?”

Louis’s jaw tightens as much as it can. “No. Of course not.” He pauses. “Do you?”

“No…that’s…that would be ridiculous,” And Harry hangs up the phone.

Louis must have a temporary loss of control because suddenly his fingers are dialing Harry’s number again. “Hello?”

“I lied. I do have a rash. I thought it was herpes but it’s not.”

There is a whistle from the other end of the line. Then silence. “It’s okay. I lied, too. Lou…you – we, we need to talk. In person.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” Harry sounds surprised “I’ll – I’ll be there as soon as possible.” Harry hangs up.

And suddenly, miraculously, Louis feels better. Not completely, but the pain is bearable again. He doesn’t know why.

In the days leading up to Harry’s visit, Louis’s anticipation overtakes his pain. His rash has faded from the color of fire trucks. Now it just looks like a regular sunburn. Louis tries not to think about what this means. He doesn’t know if he wants Harry to be his soul mate. He doesn’t particularly like the idea of soul mates, being pigeonholed in only loving one specific person for the rest of his life – unless he wants to keep the rash (he doesn’t) – just doesn’t appeal to him. It doesn’t matter if sex with Harry is by far the best he’s ever experienced; Harry’s an asshole who never called him and slept with other people. 

Louis slept with other people too, but that’s beside the point.

Harry arrives on Sunday, soaking wet from the rain outside, and sits down at the same booth his band sat in three months ago, now. Louis is not on his break, but he decides he can take one anyway.

“Hey,” he says, sliding into the seat across from Harry. Harry looks at him in shock. 

“Your rash…” He motions his head to Louis’s unrolled sleeves and bare neck and jaw.

“It looks a lot better, doesn’t it? It was so much worse before you called me. I guess we know what-”

“No,” Harry cuts him off. He sounds angry. “It’s spread so far. It looks terrible. How – how many people did you sleep with while I was gone?”

“The same as you, I think.” Harry’s gaze is still questioning, “about a dozen maybe a couple more. I wasn’t really keeping track.”

“Louis, I didn’t have sex with anybody.”

“But the tabloids-”

“Are filled with lies about celebrities to make money. None of that stuff is true.”

Louis’s anger could rival Harry’s now. “And you didn’t think to tell me? You didn’t think it mattered to me? That’s fine-” Louis stands up, seething, “I didn’t want to be your fucking soul mate anyway.”

“Louis, wait,” Harry is calm now, and Louis pauses for a half-second. He doesn’t want to be Harry’s soul mate, not really. But the rash is worse. Much worse. He sits back down.

“What?” His voice is soft. Harry unbuttons the top four buttons on his shirt, and pulls it down to expose his heart. There is a rash there, not as bad as Louis’s, but still angry red.

“My doctor said it was because my soul mate was rejecting my body.”

“What the fuck?” 

“Louis, it – it means we’re soul mates, you know that right?”

“No, shit Sherlock. That’s fucking obvious by now. I’m just confused as why yours started on your heart. Mine started on my fucking balls. I thought I had herpes for God’s sake.” Louis’s tone is supposed to be angry, but really it’s teasing and Harry laughs his magical laugh. 

Louis decides that maybe being soul mates with Harry Fucking Styles won’t be so bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this literally only 5 words i'm very sorry guys, there are better, longer chapters in the works, it's just this one was needed real bad for the purposes of the plot i love you.


	9. nine (the musical)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> just a short epilogue that i think is pretty sweet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so i had some other plans for this story, but i changed my fucking mind. Sorry if anyone is disappointed.
> 
> alright so this got way more reads than i was ever fucking expecting, which is pretty cool, i think. So, i've decided to write another one. the first chapter will be up tomorrow, and it will be longer and have more louis/harry action. i hope you'll look forward to it.

Four years later  
Louis hates weddings. 

He decided this when he was thirteen and he had to go to his mom’s co-worker’s wedding and he went out without shoes the night before and got awful sunburns on his feet and he had to wear shoes that were a size too tight because the cat tore up his new ones and some old woman he didn’t know made him call her Nana and dance the polka for hours and he ate too much shrimp and threw up all over his too-tight shoes. 

But Alex’s wedding is different. Maybe because of Harry’s gaze, from across the aisle, his eyes never leaving Louis’s, maybe because Louis is the “man of honor” which means he is basically second-in-command, maybe because of the way that Niall Horan looks at his best friend, maybe because Alex’s parents are here, the first time she’s seen them in six years, and he likes the way Alex talks to them, a little unsure at first, like she’s forgotten how to do it, but slowly she remembers. 

Maybe because it’s his birthday, which he’d forgotten about until Alex makes her wedding toast, and makes everybody to sing to Louis. And maybe because Harry sings the loudest, in his magical voice, and brings out extra-special cupcakes that he baked himself.

Maybe because Louis leans into Harry’s arms as they watch Niall twirl Alex round and round the dance floor, and the way he whispers to Harry that they are “never getting married,” and Harry laughs like he’s doesn’t quite believe it.

Maybe because he’s in Lubbock, Texas (which is a shithole, by the way), but he’s never even been to Texas and everyone here sounds like Alex and makes him talk so they can hear his accent and it makes him laugh because they’re the ones with the accent, or maybe because it starts to snow, light twirling flakes and everyone runs outside because half of the guests have never even seen snow before. 

Maybe because Louis gets to make a speech that makes everyone cry, and it makes him feel powerful and maybe because Alex makes the DJ play all of his favorite songs, and while McFly’s Transylvania is playing, Harry pulls Louis in a nice, slow dance even though the song isn’t slow and Harry always complains about this song because is an idiot who doesn’t like Dougie’s voice, but he pretends to like it because Louis is in his arms, and that’s where Harry wants to keep him forever. 

Maybe because everyone starts crying when they throw rice on Alex and Niall as they run into their car to speed to the airport (they’re going to Cobo!” and maybe because after they’re gone, when everyone is leaving, Alex’s dad shakes Louis’s hand and thanks him for everything he’s done for his daughter.

But, honestly, it’s because when Harry and Louis go back to their hotel room to fuck like rabid minks, Harry rolls off the bed and gets on one knee and pulls out a fucking engagement ring and asks Louis to marry him. And Louis says, “Okay, fine, but we’re fucking eloping.”

They board the plane for Vegas that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so that's it. hope you're okay with how it ends, i think it's kind of sweet. this is like half the length of a usual chapter. I dont know i'm kind of sad that it's done but i promise i'll write some more stories i like that idea.

**Author's Note:**

> 433,001 words (I swear it's true i'd never ever ever lie). 
> 
> Gonna try to be semi-consistent with updating because I hate it when I read something and the author literally never updates. Hope you enjoyed, and if you didn't feel free to send hate, lol.


End file.
